I had my first kill since Daniel. Well, my first two, actually. On Sunday I was picking up some bread from the local convenience store at some ungodly hour – because I forgot to pick some up earlier when some bitch swerved into my spot without any signal or indication that she was turning. Naturally I was pissed off. With clenched fists I kindly asked the woman to signal next time or wait her god damn turn. She flipped me off so I slammed her head into the brick wall. A few kicks to the skull and she was dead. I felt such a sense of relief wash over me that I didn’t think when I saw they figure approach me, I just pounced.
Well, pounced might not have been the right word.
Apparently the bitch’s brother was sitting in the passenger seat and saw the whole thing. He circled me like I was some caged animal instead of the refined woman that I obviously am. So instead of attacking him – because obviously I’d win – I took a breath and started panicking. I stared at the man, frightened out of my mind, apologizing profusely, unsure what exactly came over me, begging him not to call the police – maybe she was just unconscious. He refused in a loud, shaky voice like the man could move mountains but his heart was broken. I think that’s the best way to describe him: A large, boisterous man who was visibly moved by the idea of his sister’s death. He explained his situation (re: “I was sitting in the passenger seat and saw you attack my sister”). That’s when I started crying. A sure-fire way to make a man bring down his guard is to cry. Honestly, I wasn’t sure it would work but just like that, he was rushing toward me in an attempt to startle me into stopping. He told me I was crazy so as he turned to call the police, I tripped him and slammed his head into the pavement. Over . And over. And over again.
I hate getting blood or dirt on myself but I’ll make an exception for some. Like the ones who call me crazy while I have their life in my hands. Idiots.
So I killed the brother and sister, picked up some bread, and went home. Overall a very productive half hour. But as I was lying in bed that night , I kept thinking about that goliath of a man, so distraught over the death of his sister that it cost him his life. Would that happen to Jason? I spent the next few hours sort of obsessing over Jason and his relationship with Sandra.
Yes, that’s the first time I’ve written her name since her death. It’s time.
I wondered what Jason thought of his sister? Did he love her? Was it some obligatory affection that comes with sharing blood or were they genuine friends, bonded over loss. I thought about asking him but the fear of shutting him out at the mention of his sister was too great to risk anything. Again.
Man, that kid terrifies me sometimes.
In other, unrelated news: Heather’s husband found out about the affair. I have no idea how. She just walked into my office this morning and announced that she needed Friday off because her husband found out she had been cheating on him for the past two years…
And he wants to join.
What the fuck?
I have no words, absolutely no words.
But that sort of thing doesn’t really appeal to me. I mean, we’ve talked about threesomes and other sexual positions but if he ever cheated on me, that’d be it.
Not that he ever would; loyal as a bulldog, that one. Despite any resentment he may still harbor towards me. We had an exhaustingly long talk over the weekend – before the forgotten bread.
We talked about Sandra and the technicalities of losing a child – we were both too exhausted to discuss the emotional impact.
We talked about Jason and his lack of communication and therefore our lack of knowledge on how to deal with him.
We talked about Daniel and my mishandling of the situation last year – he’s adamant that I had some romantic feelings for Daniel and nothing I did convinced him otherwise.
We talked about our relationship, where we’ve found ourselves from the last few months; we stopped talking about where we’re headed.
We talked about me and my selfish actions, virtually destroying our family unit.
He’s staying with friends for a bit.
He thinks separation may be good for us.
Yeah, I don’t believe that either.
As always, dear readers,